


still feel alive

by IAOOT13



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hockey, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Mild Painplay, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Spanking, Subspace, end-game Nolan/Geno/Sid/Claude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 10:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18589510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAOOT13/pseuds/IAOOT13
Summary: If Nolan had to say, for the sake of posterity, he met Geno on a rainy afternoon where the foreign exchange student invited him into the apartment to dry off.In reality, Nolan met Geno in the middle of an alcohol induced haze that made him make some stupid decisions...like ask Geno to fuck him in front of his boyfriend and Geno's boyfriend.





	still feel alive

Hindsight is 20-20, or so they say. Nolan would like to know who "they" is, because they where a fucking liar.

Even looking back at all the time spent, he would have never seen this coming. He didn't think that he'd end up in the same bar as his boyfriend's ex-lover/rival. He didn't think he'd want to fuck his boyfriend's ex-lover/rival's boyfriend. He didn't think anyone in this party would agree to his drunk demands and sloppy kisses, but hey. They did.

So here he is, being held possessively against his boyfriend's chest while he watches another couple get it on. Not quite what he'd imagined. More fucking and less vouyerism, but he'll take what Claude will let him have. Past the panting and gasps, Nolan can hear the rain drumming against the window of Geno's apartment and the distant rumbling of thunder.

He sighs as he relaxes back into Claude's hold, the breath puffing against his boyfriend's jaw as he brushes his lips over the soft muscle and scratchy beard. Nolan's fingers twitch as he tries to resist bringing his hands up and grasping the back of Claude's head to make him kiss him, but he'd promised that he'd let Claude pace him. He whimpers, catching the attention of Geno and Sid, when Claude tightens his grip over Nolan's clothed dick. 

Claude hadn't let Nolan get undressed, muttering in his ear about Nolan being "his" not "their's" and that "he" is the only one who should get to see "him" so exposed. It had made Nolan shiver at the time and his heart race, heat pumping in his veins, but now he was bemoaning the fact. He could feel his dick straining at the cotton and denim, painful but delicious as he rolled his hips against Claude's hand. 

A sharp pain spread out across his thigh, Nolan realized that Claude smacked him, and his nerves lit up and sparked making him whine and tense up, trying not to buck trying to be  _good_.  

 The whine makes Geno detach from Sid, who tries to drag him back with jealous hands but is placated by a gentle murmur from Geno, and climb off the bed. Sid stays put, watching Nolan and- no, just watching Claude. Sid has a heavy gaze, it holds heat and strength and it's one thing to see it across the face-off dot, but it's another to see it across a few wrinkles in the sheet. The gaze settles on the hand Claude has over Nolan's dick, spreading the middle and index finger to create a V in which Nolan's cock is framed, the edge of Claude's jaw, lined with stubble and creating a burn against Nolan's neck, and Claude's other hand, which was still griping where Claude spanked Nolan.

Thinking back on it, Nolan wished he'd paid attention to what Geno was doing, wanting to see all that the lanky Russian was doing and focusing on anything but Sid's heated stare, but his head was fogged up with remnants of alcohol and the ever tightening grip of lust. 

A gentle hand soothed over the spot that Claude spanked him while the other pressed even harder against his dick. Specifically, the heel ground down against the head of Nolan's dick, grinding cotton and denim against the sensitive spot, choking any sound in Nolan's throat and making him bare his neck. 

Taking advantage, Claude twisted his head and bit, right over Nolan's larynx. Nolan knew that Claude knew that the bite was merely a facsimile of a hand, a gentle but callused hand that would often grip and force Nolan into helpless positions. Nolan loved that hand, and he loved even more the person that owned the hand. He trusted Claude, knew that he wouldn't do anything to him without having discussed it first. Absentmindedly, Nolan wondered if that was how Claude and Sid had operated. Claude never said a word about his and Sid's relationship, so anything Nolan knew came from league-wide information, as limited as it was. Sometime Claude would get drunk, really drunk, and Nolan could coax Claude into lazy and sloppy sex, and then, sometimes, Nolan would hear as Claude rambled about Nolan's pretty hair, pretty face, pretty lips, pretty hands, pretty body, and overtime it began to sound like Claude was talking about someone else. Words not meant for Nolan, but directed at Nolan all the same. It was confusing.

Claude made a sound, Nolan could feel the vibrations against his throat where Claude's teeth were still lodged, and his body tensed and then his mouth and teeth were gone. What a fucking shame. And then Claude was talking, deep and purposefully, but not at Nolan. Nolan whined and turned his head, setting his own teeth against the hinge of Claude's jaw, wanting that sharp and dangerous attention back. 

Claude's chest vibrated and shook with repressed laughter. Even with his head all cottony, Nolan knew Claude's laugh, and this was one of his mean ones. Nolan pouted and tried to arch his back, thrusting his chest and hips forward, a slutty move but one that he hoped would drag Claude's attention back to him.

"Brat" Claude's lips pressed right against Nolan's ear and the word, that simple, simple word, rumbled right out of Claude's chest and up into Nolan's ear.

And that was the only warning Nolan had before he was shoved forward. 

Nolan went into it blind, because he had closed his eyes when Claude bit his larynx, but now he opened them just as he face planted into Geno's bed sheets. The impact startled him, and he looked over his shoulder, betrayed, at Claude, who only grinned and yanked his hips up so that his face was pressed into the sheets and his ass was in the air. This position, something Claude called "presenting" and Nolan thought of as slutty and wanton, was a familiar one in the bedroom; when Claude thought Nolan was being a brat, Nolan was shoved into this position and was told to take it until he couldn't anymore. If he couldn't take it, they had a system in place; Nolan knew what to say to stop the whole scene, but never had Claude pushed him to the point where he had to use it. When Nolan didn't want sugary sweet praise and gentle sex, when he wanted bruises and bites and pain but the good kind, Nolan found himself in this position, begging for it.

Hands worked at his belt and jeans and underwear until the offending articles of clothing were dragged over his hips and ass, down his legs, and tossed over the side of the bed. Nolan shivered as his ass, thighs, dick, and balls were exposed to the cool air of the bedroom, and then he shivered again as hands dragged over his skin with just a bite of nail. Heat burned under his cheekbones and in his ribcage as he knew just how exposed he was; with Claude, this was no big deal, but he was presenting to Geno, to  _Sid_. This wan't any ordinary scene it was-

Nolan's thoughts cut off as the sharp edge of teeth dug into the thick flesh of his ass. He gasped and jerked, but remembered just in time that he shouldn't move. Claude chuckled, at least he thinks it's Claude, his hair is covering one of his ears and the other is pressed into the mattress so he can't hear super well, but the rumbling bass that rises in pitch through choppy sounds is a familiar sound; Claude's laugh. And, by extension, Nolan's, because Nolan likes to think that Claude is his, all of Claude is his, and all of him is Claude's. Nolan whines, because Claude is purposefully being mean. This isn't the teasing mean that is the prelude to their rougher scenes, its pure meanness, something that Claude has only done if Nolan has been  _bad_.

The thought make is breath hitch, and not in a nice way. Was he being bad? Had he missed a que? It's happened sometimes, but Claude always gives him the opportunity to catch up, to decide if he wants to keep being bad or be just bratty instead. 

No ques have been given though, none that Nolan was aware of and he know the usuals: hand squeeze on the back of the neck, tug of the hair that yanks his head back and exposes his throat, two fingers pressing against his bottom lip, a firm grip on his left ankle approaching bruising. None of those have happened, either at the bar or in this bed or apartment. 

Unknowingly Nolan's spine had been getting more and more tense, so when cold and lube was drizzled over his tailbone and between his ass-cheeks until it ran against his hole and over his balls he jumped and tried to twist away. But Claude caught him, Claude grabbed his hips and pressed him down, thumbs against his back, other fingers pressing against his abs with deadly force. With almost no warning the hands shifted so that one pressed against the dip in his spine, pinning him to the bed, and the other slapped his ass with almost full force. 

Nolan's head twisted as he tried to writhe against the sheets, but he was caught between Claude's hands and the bed and Geno and Sid's eyes. Shame burned under his skin as he knew they were watching him get punished. Nolan was being bad, not bratty,  _bad_. Nolan sobbed as Claude kept raining down slaps, spreading the sting all across his ass. He loved getting spanked, but not like this, and Nolan wondered what he did, specifically. Not just the general knowledge of "oh, Nolan was misbehaving" he wanted to know exactly what he did wrong, because this...this humiliation was not fun.

And then it stopped. Before Nolan could even consider safe-wording, Claude stopped and now gentle hands spread his legs wide, until a burn crept up his ham-strings, and his hips were tilted up to expose his hole, his balls, his semi-hard dick to cool air and the gaze of three men so much more older than him. Nolan whined, wanting warmth and bites and human touch.

 

***sorry, this is a work in progress..i just had to post it early because the draft was going to be deleted soon***


End file.
